A Second Chance
by Kazie Solo
Summary: Father's Day fic. Post CGT. As Kuroudo thinks about the role his father played in his life, a little girl drops by to serenade him with a song...


[Sorry for the late posting of this, minna, I didn't get the chance to get on a computer with a decent Internet connection the past few days. Anyway, I know this is random, silly, crazy and weird, but I just suddenly got the impulse to write this one, and well, even with that caliber this is still another one to add up the number of fics in the CGT section. Belated Happy Father's Day to all fathers out there! :p

One more thing. The pairing's random, which is why _she_ doesn't have a name. She could be anyone you'd ever dream of pairing up with him. ::smirks::]

**---**

**A Second Chance**

He looked out the window and allowed his gaze to wander around playfully, aimlessly even, not at all caring that he could barely see any foliage from where he stood, a sight that would surely give his nature-loving soul a sense of peace and contentment. The music school, however, was a building somewhere in the vast expanse of a prestigious university in Tokyo, and so all he could actually see were skyscrapers in varying heights and sizes and whatever comprised them.

Still, he couldn't help but stare at whatever lay in front of him, from the soccer field at the far eastern end to the series of classrooms just a few meters to his left, and no matter where he would fix his Mediterranean blue eyes on, it seemed as though she was there, looking back at him. Watching him even from the realm of the beyond, from the world he had so wanted to jump into yet was not prepared to enter.

A key was struck, and its sharpness tore him from his thoughts rather violently, making him flinch considerably. Fueled by surprised and a substantial amount of shock, he abruptly whirled around to see what had happened, and found a little girl standing in front of the grand piano at the center of the room. She was too short to reach the seat that had been elevated to cater to the heights of his college students, and in her attempt to get on it, she had struck the instrument by accident.

_"I'm sorry,"_ she whimpered as soon as she felt his disapproving gaze on her. She wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, let alone cause trouble. Yet, she stole a glance at the doorway and flashed a teasing smile after having done so. _"But you left the door open. Can I… Can I play?" _

Her voice was overflowing with longing and excitement, and while he had never been fond of little children, he found the girl too delightful to resist. Nodding, he walked over to her, unable to pull away from her request – she was battling her eyelashes at him – and hoisted her on the chair.

She was a very beautiful child, with light brown locks that cascaded slightly past her small shoulders, and pretty pale blues for eyes, just like his mother's. Her features brought upon a sense of familiarity that he could not seem to put a finger on. But it didn't matter then. As he watched her shift into a more comfortable position and flex her fingers in preparation for her rendition of a whatever piece she had in mind, he could not help but smile. Despite her seemingly confident demeanor, indicating how mature she was for someone actually so young, she still had the charm every child possessed in the first few years of his life.

She grinned at him. _"This is the song my father used to play,"_ she told him, and then she began to give life to the dull room he had confined himself for the past hour. From what seemed to be a six-year-old, an enchanting melody crept into his ears and filled his soul. But after only two notes, his eyes flew wide in realization.

It was _A Song_. The piece his father, Hideaki Jacques Marume, had composed, and used to play.

His father. The man he had willed himself to push away and take for granted. The man he had blamed for his mother's demise, as well as his own. Had it not been for his obsession with his career as an internationally acclaimed musician, they would've remained a family up until the present. She wouldn't be crying everytime he would call and say that he wouldn't come home for another month or two, and he wouldn't be belting out his frustrations on the grand piano, now that he was too old to take part in a Gear Fighting match. Yet, even so…

He hated to admit it, but his father had been a good man. Career-obsessed, yes, but he had provided everything they ever needed, and whenever he would come home, they would have the times of their lives. He, the son who had been hurt by his absence, simply refused to see the goodness in him.

That brought another thought into his mind. Had _he_ himself been engrossing himself with his career as a music teacher? A mentor though he was, basically he was still a musician. Just like his father. Was he repeating the mistake his old man had committed in his lifetime?

When he pushed himself back into reality, the song was as its second verse, a few lines just before the repetition of the chorus. Not really knowing what suddenly got into him, he waited for the ever-familiar words that comprised the refrain, and as soon as the key shifted in indication for the verse shift, he opened his mouth to sing.

"_I have a song to sing…_" he began, his voice firm and in a melodramatic baritone, but he was immediately forced to a stop. The song's melody had considerably changed, and while the transition was smooth, as if it was really part of the piece, to him who had mastered it, it was no doubt an addition to the original piece. And the additional lines flashed sharply in his mind, words and phrases someone had scribbled in the dust a long time ago yet was suddenly very clear, as if written in bold print.

_This song I sing for you  
__I wish you would sing, too  
__A song of the love within my heart  
__A song of the love you're forever a part_

He suddenly felt himself grow weak.

That was _his_ version of the song.

The song he had learned from his father, and had mastered in a flurry like a real music prodigy. The song he had revised, with the help of his wife, at her news that she was pregnant. The song he had played night after night to soothe the silent wails of their unborn daughter. The song he had stopped playing at the death of his child, who was yet to be born into the world. The song he had almost forgotten.

And that girl…

The piece ended in an octave of flourishing notes, and having completed her rendition, she jumped down from the seat and faced him, beaming. She then curtsied, as if she was onstage and an entire crowd was applauding for her.

He felt tears glisten within his sapphire eyes. It couldn't be real, and yet… she was there. Grown up and definitely cuter. She had her mother's slightly wavy hair and slightly tanned complexion, but her locks showed attributes of his blonde ones, too. She also took after her playfulness and bubbly childlike charm, but she had his talent at playing the piano and his confidence to perform in front of a crowd. Even if she had only presented in front of an imaginary audience.

_"Daddy?"_ she called out, stepping up to him.

He didn't even think about it. He just dropped to his knees and embraced her as tightly as he dared. She was there, as solid and as real as any human being, and to him, that was all that mattered. And as he told her that he loved her, and that her mother did, too, he felt the ice in his heart and the bitterness that protectively enclosed it melt away at the warmth that filled his very being. He was aware that anytime, she would disappear for good, never to be seen until his own death, yet the one chance he had gotten was more than enough.

-**x**-

"Hey."

The pressure he felt on his shoulder as she tapped him immediately brought him back from the land of dreams, but it took him a while to realize that he had fallen asleep in the study room, hunched over the test papers he had been checking. He fumbled for his cellphone and checked the time. It was only a few minutes before midnight.

She pulled a chair and sat down beside him, resting her chin on the topmost bar. Her dark brown hair was left untied, and she was already wearing her nightgown. "I checked the other papers for you. Those you didn't sleep on. Hope you don't mind," she said, smiling at him, but her expression quickly flipped upside-down into a frown. "What is it?"

"I had a dream. But I don't remember what it was."

"Oh. Yeah, you did. You were mumbling, though incoherently, but well, I thought you were having a nightmare, so I woke you up, even if it's not midnight yet." She took the note he had written messily and placed on top of the test papers, which read '_Welcome home. Wake me up at 12,'_ and grinned in amusement before putting it back down on the table."Look, Kuroudo. Obsessions aren't healthy. Don't push yourself. Your career's not all there is. I'm here. We're here."

"Easy for you to say," he snapped, getting up on his feet. She quickly followed his lead, but as she grabbed his arm, he wriggled free from her grasp. He walked further away, hoping she wouldn't follow, but when she didn't, he stopped in his tracks. He really was an emotional wreck. "My job's the only way for me to escape reality. Let me hold on to it while I've yet to overcome my grief."

The next thing he knew, she was standing behind him, embracing him at the risk of being shouted at. But she was surprisingly calm, and there was a strange tone of happiness in her voice. "Why don't you hold on to something else, then? Something that wouldn't kill you in the long run?" She let go and slowly turned him around, then taking his right hand and guiding it over her belly. "_Someone like her?_"

He couldn't believe it. "No way. Another nine months?"

She only grinned at him, and as he saw her smile, he knew that he had seen it somewhere. "Yes, another nine months. But I'm a tougher fighter this time," she affirmed, snuggling into his arms and gazing up into his breathtaking blues. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I wanted to surprise you. Happy Father's Day."

_I love you, Daddy…_

"It's a girl," Kuroudo whispered, smiling. "It's a girl."

-**Owari**-


End file.
